Vengeance is Mine
by TessaStarDean
Summary: An AU version of Two for the Road. Character deaths and some language. Written for lostfichallenge, The Seven Deadly Sins.


The jungle carried odd sounds, and she knew from experience that you couldn't always be sure of what you were hearing. But as she moved toward the Hatch, Ana-Lucia was certain that she had heard gunfire. Fear settled into her stomach painfully, and she quickened her step, ears straining to pick up any other noise.

It had been her day to guard Henry and take care of the button. But Jack could see the tension laying heavily on her, the shake that had overcome her hands. She hadn't been sleeping, and her self-imposed isolation was slowly taking its toll. He had all but ordered her to take a break, even if it was just walking along the beach. With a gentle firmness, he had taken the gun out of her hands and pushed her toward the door, saying with a smile that she could take his next shift.

It was the silence that struck her first. Usually there was music playing, or dishes being washed, or…_something_, happening in the Hatch. But now there was nothing, and it nearly deafened her. As she came into the main room, she stopped cold, her lungs suddenly closing and making it impossible for her to breathe.

Jack sat on the couch, his eyes closed. For a minute her mind tried to tell her that he was just sleeping, his head slumped forward onto his chest. But her eyes fell on the hole in his shirt, resting right over his heart. A red stain was visible around the edges, and the truth of what she was looking at suddenly came crashing down on her. She ran over to him, desperately searching for a pulse, tears stinging her eyes as she came up with nothing.

A sudden groan grabbed her attention, and she moved her gaze to the room where they had been keeping Henry. The door was open, and Michael lay on the floor as he slowly returned to consciousness. Ana-Lucia rushed to his side, kneeling down and turning him over onto his back. One of her hands came away red as she saw that he had taken a hit to the shoulder.

"Ana…" he whispered.

"What the hell happened?" she demanded, wincing at the harshness of her own voice.

"Henry…he escaped…" He took a shaky breath. "Libby…"

A sense of cold dread stole over Ana-Lucia as she turned to look behind her. Her friend lay sprawled out on the ground, her blonde hair flowing out in waves underneath her head. Blankets were clutched to her stomach, but Ana could see the blood seeping out from underneath them.

Panic started to settle in as she looked around her. But underneath that, she could feel a building rage growing as well.

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She could hear the others talking in the room adjoining the kitchen.

"Is she…will she make it?" Hurley asked.

Ana could imagine that tears in Kate's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hurley. I don't think so."

"This is bullshit," Sawyer muttered. Ana jumped, not realizing that he had come back into the room. "We need a doctor, but ours just happens to have been murdered."

"Come on, Sawyer," Ana said quietly. "It's not like you had much love for Jack."

He glared at her.

"That doesn't mean I wanted the doc dead. And that doesn't mean I'm going to let the little shit who killed him get away with it."

"What do you suggest?" she asked, her eyes still roving around the room.

"We find the bastard."

"And then what?"

"You know what."

She looked at him then, and she knew exactly what he meant. And she knew that she couldn't agree with him more.

"I'm not sure Henry did this."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers.

"What the hell you talking about?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Something just doesn't fit."

Sawyer watched her closely before speaking again.

"You were a cop, weren't you? Before the crash?" She nodded. "Then how 'bout you tell me what you see?"

Ana thought for a moment, letting her brain readjust to seeing the room as a crime scene. Moving to the middle, she turned around slowly, taking everything in.

"How did he get a gun?" she finally asked.

Sawyer shrugged. "Musta took it from the doc."

"But if he did that," she objected. "Jack wouldn't have been sitting on the couch. He would have been standing. Or lying on the ground."

"Okay," he said slowly, the gears in his own mind turning.

"From what I can tell," Ana continued. "Michael went into Henry's room. And he didn't have a gun. So how did Michael get shot?"

Sawyer frowned, his eyes moving around the room quickly as he tried to rebuild the scene in his head. But as the minutes passed, his frown only grew deeper.

"Even if he knocked Mike down, that still leaves the gun, don't it?" he finally asked.

She nodded.

"It all comes back to the gun."

Their conversation ended abruptly as Kate came out of the other room, tears streaming down her face. They both froze, knowing in their hearts what she was going to say.

"She's gone," Kate whispered.

Sawyer sighed and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

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Ana stood at the counter, still trying to take everything in. Her eyes fell on Michael, who sat on the couch where Jack had died. The bullet had pierced his arm, but it didn't look as though there was any significant damage. That in and of itself confused Ana. Jack and Libby had been killed – there were no hesitation shots, no missed shots. Four bullets were fired, and all were direct hits except for Michael's. If Henry had pushed past him and grabbed Jack's gun and then shot Jack and Libby, he would have had to turn around to shoot Michael. And why didn't he go for the kill like he had with the others?

Staring at the man before her, a horrific thought settled in her head.

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Michael read over the note eight or nine times. It had been left in his shoe, so that he would find it as soon as he got dressed. He didn't recognize the handwriting, but the message made him feel hot and cold all at the same time.

_I know where Walt is. If you ever want to see your son again, follow the map and meet with me_.

The map was on the back of the note, drawn in black marker. It seemed to lead further into the heart of the island, a couple hours hike from the Hatch. He wondered if somehow Henry had come back to leave the note, or if he had sent one of the others do it. The latter made more sense to him – their former prisoner hadn't been in much shape to be traversing the island. Michael figured that he had met with one of his people and sent them back immediately to plant the note somewhere he was sure to find it.

Looking up again, his ears caught the sound of someone running the shower. Vaguely he remembered Kate saying something about needing to get cleaned up. He felt guilty every time he looked at her. There seemed to always be tears in her eyes now, and there was a new shake to her voice and hands. Rumor had it there had been something going on between her and Jack, and she wasn't handling his death very well.

Sighing, he shook his head and stood up. All that mattered now was his son.

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The rain started about halfway through his journey. It was heavy, soaking through all of his clothes and into his bones, causing him to shiver slightly. He still didn't understand how the rain could make him so cold on an island in the South Pacific. As far as he was concerned, it should always be warm.

He was tired and his shoulder ached by the time he reached his destination. Frowning, he moved toward the clearing, seeing a dug up grave resting under a tree. When he peered into it, he saw a heavy black man inside. Fear growing in the pit of his stomach, he suddenly realized that it was no longer raining on him, despite the fact that he could still hear water striking the ground. Looking up, his eyes widened as they rested on a large balloon, a yellow happy face smiling down at him from where it was caught in the branches of the tree.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

A sharp click behind him made him spin around, and his mouth fell open as he saw Ana-Lucia walk toward him, a gun in her hand aimed straight at him.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the rain.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why did you free Henry? Why did you kill Jack and Libby?"

He tried to put on an indignant face.

"I don't know what you're talking about –"

"Shut it, Michael! Did you think someone wouldn't figure it out? If Henry had really escaped all on his own, he would have had to wrestle the gun away from Jack. But that didn't happen, did it? Jack never saw the shot coming, because he never suspected that you would kill your own to get your son back!"

"Look –"

"And if Henry had really killed them, then why didn't he kill you as well?"

"He thought I was dead –"

"No! Whoever shot Jack and Libby, shot to kill. There is no reason that he wouldn't have done the same to you."

"He must have missed –"

"People like that don't miss," she said quietly, stepping forward again.

Suddenly, it all made sense to Michael.

"You left that note, didn't you?"

"There's no court on this island. I'm not even a cop anymore. But that doesn't mean there can't be justice."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Ana's trigger finger was quicker. The bullet exploded out of the gun and shot through the air, ripping through Michael's forehead. He fell back with a thud, his mouth and eyes still open in shock and horror.

Ana stood there for a long time, the gun held out in front of her. This wasn't like when she had shot Shannon – that had been a mistake. This was vengeance and justice, and she was surprised at how good it felt.

A noise to her right made her heart jump, and she spun around to see Sawyer stepping out from under the trees, his eyes on Michael.

"He killed the doc and Libby?"

Lowering the gun, she nodded.

"Why?"

"They must have gotten to him. While he was their captive. Maybe they told him that the only way to get Walt back was to free Henry." She took a deep breath. "How did you find us?"

Sawyer shrugged. "I was on my way to the Hatch to see Freckles. Saw him sneaking out, decided to follow him."

"I thought he was your friend."

"What he did was unforgivable."

She nodded, not surprised that Sawyer would be the one that could understand what she had done. They butted heads constantly, but the one thing they shared was anger. He understood her rage, because he felt it too. They had both felt the sting of betrayal, of anger sweeping over them. And that was why he was here now – he needed to see it finished just as much as she did.

Leaning down, he pulled two objects up from the ground. When he straightened, she saw that they were makeshift shovels.

"Need some help digging?"

She nodded, reaching out and catching the tool as he tossed it to her. Silently, they got to work.


End file.
